Pressing Flowers
by Secretly-A-Fangirl
Summary: Now Turnbull turns to face me, tilting my face to look up at him. "Never thought I'd see you again, Jeyne. How has my almost daughter-in-law been?" His kindness is fake, I can see it in the way he looks at me. I put on my most charming smile. "'Bout as good as you, I suppose." Adleman Lusk/OC One-shot


Jeyne Hex—a name that follows me no matter how many times I try to change it. People say I'm almost an exact copy of Jonah, but my brother and I couldn't be more different. Sure, we both have brown eyes, brown hair and a rebellious side, but he's full of vengeance and I could not care about anything even if I tried. In short, I'm a whore—nothing more, nothing less.

I've been on the run ever since my older brother was made a soldier, not able to handle the attacks from others; made worse when he killed Jeb, the man I'd admired most of my life. Finally I found a town miles away from where I was born; a brothel took me in and began to train me. I was bought at sixteen by a rich man, been with him ever since.

He'd wanted a virgin, so he was given me. Back then I went by Sybilla Lockheart; the name seemed to stick with him. Adleman Lusk is a handsome man by even high standards with his dark hair, sapphire blue eyes, and southern accent. He was sweet and attentive the first week I was with him, after that I was treated as what I am behind closed doors (and sometimes behind a tree if he couldn't wait) and in public I was simply a child he'd taken in.

He taught me to read and write, how to act like a proper woman my age should so that the people he introduced me to wouldn't think me stupid. That's his reasoning anyway, I'm sure it's so I do not embarrass him. I'm twenty now, still living in his home, still fighting to forget all that my brother had caused to happen.

Adleman traces my jaw line with a single finger before taking a lock of my wet hair and twirling it about. We're in his favorite place besides his bed: the bathtub; filled to the brim with warm water, turning my fair skin a light pink. The arm wrapped around my waist pulls me closer to him, forcing me to lie against his toned chest.

His free hand travels over my stomach and to my right breast, caressing it gently at first, then rougher. I arch into his touch, the only one I've ever known. Lips attach themselves to my neck, looking for the certain spot that makes me scream. Tonight is not about me, I know, as feel his arousal grow, pressing against my ass.

Moaning, I turn my head to meet his lips in a desperate kiss. The hand on my breast travels lower to my closed thighs, lightly touching them with the tips of his fingers. I can feel his quiet chuckle vibrating in his chest as my cheek rests against it, a blush coloring my cheeks. "Still shy after all these years?" His voice is low, filled with lust.

I smirk, turning to face him and grabbing his hard member. His groan of approval spurs me on; I stroke, hard and fast just as he likes. Sapphire eyes close, strong hands grip the edge of the porcelain tub so hard that his knuckles turn white; his hips begin to buck and his every breath comes out as a groan.

My hands and his chest are covered in a sticky substance that I learned long ago I hated the taste of. His eyes slowly open, darkened with his apparent desire; hard once again. "Mmm, you have learned much since I brought you here." Learn or be kicked to the streets, the choice was easy for me.

"Anything to please you," I say in a seductive tone. He smirks as I bite my bottom lip, brown eyes clashing with blue. He leans forward, capturing my scarlet lips in another bruising kiss. Shifting slightly, he slides into me. I throw my head back, mouth forming an 'O' in pleasure.

Lusk is definitely not a small man, not particularly large either mind you, but he was the perfect size for me to take. As I ride him, my breasts bounce and he takes one dusty pink nipple into his warm mouth, sucking as a babe would. I let out a long, loud moan, enjoying the familiar sensations running through me.

"Ahh," I shout, gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks. His hands find my hips, raising me up and crushing me back down. He thrusts in time with me, hitting that spot that causes my vision to start to fade and pleasure to overtake me.

"Jesus," he cries, grip on my hips tightening. There would be bruises there later, there always was. The rougher for him, the better climax he would have. I have done things that would make most women green; you get used to it, I guess.

I collapse against him, gasping for breath. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, still coming down from his high. "We have a meeting to attend tonight." I tense immediately, hoping we'll not be seeing who I think it is. "Turnbull has something important to tell me."

He notices how tense I have become, how I do not speak. "You don't like him?" I shake my head, bottom lip trembling slightly. "Why?" I don't respond, getting out of the tub instead and beginning to dry. Please drop it! One of his hands lies on my shoulder and turns me to face him. "I asked you a question and I expect an answer."

"He's from my past," I say softly, eyes downcast. He doesn't talk about it after that, he doesn't care about his whore's past so long that it doesn't interfere with their nightly sessions. "Do I still have to attend?" His eyes are hard as he looks at me, the business man beginning to come back to him, taking over the lover.

"Of course." I never thought that two words, not even a real sentence, would set something so unexpected in motion. Brown eyes close as my towel is taken away and replaced with a robe of silk. "Dress nicely, we'll be leaving soon."

Nicely meaning corset, low-cut dress, hair pinned in a not-so-intricate style, and face painted so as to enhance some of my natural features. I was to draw Turnbull's gaze so that it may encourage him to be on Lusk's side. Act like a whore, dress like a lady, don't mess up or it's my head.

We climb into a carriage and should be there later tonight. The carriage is filled with silence as he stares at me and I stare at my gloved hands, fidgeting slightly. "You know what you're supposed to do?" A nod, brown eyes never looking up. "Good." The carriage stops, we get out and are greeted by Burke, an Irishman who has a love of dynamite.

"Right this way." He says, leading us into the dark building and to a back room. Turnbull rises from his place at a small table, sitting again when we are seated. I can feel eyes on me, eyes that do not belong to Adleman Lusk.

"Well, Mr. Turnbull, it appears the bells are finally ready to toll on Washington," Lusk says happily, a smile on his face. At this I adjust myself in the seat so that I am facing Turnbull, ample cleavage showing.

"And I hear them, Mr. Lusk, because I've heard them for six long years. We appreciate the services that you have rendered to us." He's up, walking around the room as if just wanting to stretch his legs. Turnbull fiddles with his cane, standing a few feet behind Lusk's chair.

"I can only hope you succeed. I'll most certainly hang if you don't, an outcome I most sincerely hope to avoid." A nervous smile replaces Lusk's confident one, showing he doesn't exactly have trust in the plan. His third mistake tonight. The first was showing up. The second, allowing the enemy behind his back.

The sound of gunfire makes my eyes widen and my head shoot up. Lusk lays face down on the table, the wound in the back of his head bleeding profusely.

"Consider it avoided." Now Turnbull turns to face me, tilting my face to look up at him. "Never thought I'd see you again, Jeyne. How has my almost daughter-in-law been?" His kindness is fake, I can see it in the way he looks at me. I put on my most charming smile.

"'Bout as good as you, I suppose." And then everything is black.

~Five Years Later~

"Excuse me miss, do I know you," a scar-faced man asks a young woman. She flashes him a smile, brown eyes showing wisdom and mistrust. He remembers that smile from somewhere, but he cannot place it.

"I'm sorry sir; I don't think we've met." That voice, he knows that voice, but from where?

"Jonah Hex." The woman smiles again, holding out a white-gloved hand for him to shake.

"Sybilla Lockheart." A boy with a head of brown hair runs over, pulling on the woman's skirts. "Andrew, calm down." The child blushes when he sees Jonah, moving further away from him.

"Momma, can we go now?"

"Good day, Mister Hex, my son here wishes to pick some new flowers to put in his book." As the woman turned away and was lost in the crowd Jonah realized why she looked so familiar. He had taught his little sister how to press flowers when they were younger, something she had taken to like a duck to water. The child seemed familiar as well, sapphire eyes shining with curiosity.

The child's eyes so unfamiliar, not belonging to Jeyne and no father in sight.


End file.
